


Sick Day

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby gets sick, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Space Dad and his Womp Rat, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: The Child gets sick.
Relationships: The Mandalorian & Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 616





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> yo it me again
> 
> if you have dadlorian and baby fic ideas lemme kknnoooowwww
> 
> i already have an idea for my next one, but i could always use more :D
> 
> also thanks so much for all of the feedback on the last fic! seeing all those comments made me really happy ^~^

It started with a sneeze. 

The action took the Child’s entire body, from his head darting forward to his large ears smacking him in the face, eyes blinking in confusion after it was over. He looked around in his surprise, small hands gripping the edge of his crib, and eventually looked up to his father. Caregiver. 

Dyn frowns, the thought of the Child getting allergies and a cold never occurring to him. He hadn't even believed that he would be able to get the regular kinds of sickness that humans dealt with. He knows that that was an arrogant thought, but he was already stressed with keeping themselves hidden and fed enough already to worry about the Child getting sick. 

But of course the Child would get sick now. This was a new planet with new bacterium that his small body has probably never been introduced to, even if he is 50 years old. 

He tried not to worry too much about it at first. It was just a single sneeze, after all. 

Until, of course, the Child was coughing so much he couldn't even follow after Winta and the other children. Winta had taken notice instantly and brought him back to Dyn, her eyes worried. 

“I think he's sick,” she'd told him, as he took the child from her arms into his own. The Child coughed again, his entire body shaking with the sound. He continued to tremble, as though cold, and instantly concern filled Dyn’s chest. 

“Thank you,” he said to Winta. “I'll take care of him.” 

Winta nodded before she ran back out, pulling the fabric to cover the entrance to the barn. 

Dyn walked to a chair Omera had left him, sitting in it as the Child’s body is racked once more with horrible sounding coughs. He carefully sets the Child in his lap before he removes one of his gloves, using his bare hand to feel the temperature on the green skin, which suddenly appeared a lot paler than it normally did. His skin was hot, and his ears are bent backwards to show he is uncomfortable. He makes a pathetic noise, his throat hoarse. Dyn’s heart breaks. 

He pulls the Child closer to his chest, returns the glove to his hand and quickly heads for Omera’s hut, pausing to knock on her door. She opens it a moment later, greeting him with a smile. 

“Hello again,” she said, until her eyes took in the Child’s current condition. She loses her smile. “What's wrong with him?” 

“I think he's sick,” Dyn replied, looking back down the Child’s pained expression. He sneezes, back arching, before his head lands in the crook of Dyn’s elbow. That couldn't be comfortable, what with the metal of the armor, but the Child seemed content, nestling his head further in. “What should I do?” 

Omera reaches up, and gently lays one of her hands on the Child’s forehead. Dyn is glad that that had been his first instinct; it had been correct. She pulls her hand away a moment later and nods. “He does seem to be at the human temperature for a fever,” she said, confirming his earlier worry. “Though I wouldn't worry too much. While he's not human, I'm sure he’ll only need a few days of rest. And, I'll get him some medicinal herbs to grind up into a paste for him to drink.” 

Dyn bites his lip beneath his mask, an action he doesn't regularly do. But his intense worry has his teeth dragging along the skin, pulling at bits of it. “Are you sure that's all?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Omera said, and he could hear amusement in her voice. “I can tell this is the first time he's been sick with you. You're just like any other worried parent. But you don't need to worry. Just lay him down, let him sleep, and I'll bring the medicine over in an hour or so.” 

She sends him away with a wave of her hand, and Dyn returns to the barn they were staying in. He quietly mulls over the fact Omera had called him “parent”. Sure everyone had been referring to the Child has Dyn’s own, but to be called his parent was new. The thought makes his chest warm, and only brings the worry for the Child more centered. But, he does his best to not worry too much, as he gently lays the Child on the bed. Omera has told him it wasn't that big of a deal, and she'd been a parent longer than he had been. He have to trust her on this. 

The Child wiggles restlessly in the crib, his ears laid out either way from the rest of his body. His eyes stayed open, staring up at Dyn as another fit of coughs shakes his entire body. He lets out a small cry afterwards, small hands lifting shakily, three fingers gripping uselessly at the air between them. 

Dyn knows what that meant. He wants to be picked up, and held again, even though he'd only just now been set down. And Omera had told him to let him lay down. To let him rest…

…Though not where to rest, specifically. 

Dyn makes up his mind. He strips the metal from his under garment and sets it aside, leaving only his helmet and the fabric of his undershirt on to cover his skin. The metal would be too hard for the Child to lay against once he picks him up, so he thought it best to set it aside. The entire time he does this, he's accompanied by the small cries from the Child beside him. The sounds make his heart ache, but he knows that taking these few minutes would be better for the Child’s comfort. 

He then leans over the crib’s edge, and gently grabs both of the Child’s sides, lifting him back up and into his arms. The Child coos happily, head finding the crook in his arm once more, before he coughs weakly, the sound tiny compared to that of a human cough. 

“You'll be okay, you little womp rat,” Dyn told him softly, the Child’s coos warming his heart. He sits in the nearby chair, holding up a finger that the Child takes instantly in between both of his hands. “Just you wait.” 

Omera arrives with the medicine not much later, surprised to see him without his armor, but smiling to see him being so gentle with the Child. She'd had no doubt that he was doing his best to care for the Child, but this just cements the idea. She hands him the cup she'd brought with him. 

“Let him drink that when he wakes up,” she explains, and he nods. “He should be better in a day or two of rest.” 

She then leaves, telling him she'd bring him more medicine the next day. 

Dyn remains silent, setting the cup aside, careful not to wake the Child. He is sleeping soundly now, breathes raspy, and a few coughs shaking his body, but he was still and silent otherwise. 

He could do this. He knew he could. 

As long as Omera told him what to do, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> cries


End file.
